Gone
by suchamystery
Summary: The Joker was a changed man now, a little less crazy, a little sadder, and Bruce can't take it. Bruce/Joker.


Oh, the things I come up with when I'm listening to Poker Face and watching 7 Pounds (which, btw, is a FANTABULOUS movie). This is probably a little AU, and probably a little OOC, and definitely filled with run on sentences, but I love run on sentences, so you should love them just so you can love this, too. I also probably won't delete this one like I do with everything else, because I'm actually impressed with it *gasp!*. So yeah, anywaysss, on with the summary & then the story.

Summary: The Joker was a changed man now, a little less crazy, a little sadder, and Bruce couldn't take it.

---

It was dark when Batman approached the Joker, who was stumbling along tiredly. Batman's brows furrowed in concern, walking slowly behind him, biting his lip, ready for an attack. But then, the Joker turned to face him, his red lips pulled up in a forced smile, and he held out his arms, staring at the handcuffs on Batman's belt expectantly. Batman is worried, because the Joker finally completely lost interest in their game of cat-and-mouse. He'd been this way for a while now, maybe a few months, never putting in as much effort as he did the night before. Batman looked at his smile, the one that didn't reach his eyes, and frowned, stepping slowly towards the criminal, then behind him, then taking his arms, pulling them behind his back, and cuffing his wrists. He heard police sirens in the distance and stared at the back of the Joker's head for a few seconds before disappearing into the night sky.

---

The cops had taken him to Arkham, but Batman knew it wasn't necessary, because he knew the Joker was already gone. He was proven correct when the madman was released just a week later, the men and women in white coats grinning their big, happy grins, acting like they did something great. The cops didn't want anything to do with the man anymore, so they dumped him off with the first person that said they were friends. Which they weren't, it was most likely just some guy from the mob who wanted revenge on the madman, and the cops didn't care enough to make sure that the Joker was safe.

When Batman figured out where they were staying (a trashy, worn down home in the slums of Gotham) he showed up late at night, when there wasn't a car in the driveway. He walked to the back of the house, staring up at the light shining through the second story window, scaling the wall easily and knocking on the window. The Joker was sitting on the floor, facing the window, staring blankly at the Batman before his mind registered that the Bat couldn't be here to arrest him because he hadn't done anything wrong, and he was supposed to be 'cured'. He stood up and walked over to the window, opening it and letting Batman through.

"_What_?" His voice was sharp, serious, and it cut through Batman like a knife. His eyes traveled over the Joker's body, seeing angry red cuts and blue-ish bruises. He frowned, reaching out and taking one of the Joker's arms.

"Did you do this to yourself?" He couldn't look at the Joker's face anymore, because when he did, he felt like crying. His eyes were dark and his mouth was pulled down in a permanent frown, and his face was cold, expressionless.

"Of course not, Bat. Why would I?" He snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Because you might feel the need to kill yourself." Batman didn't exactly know how to explain why the Joker would want to kill himself, because he never really understood the Joker.

"Kill_ myself_? Oh, Batsy, that's outrageous! I'm a _changed_ man, remember?" Batman knew that the Joker was trying to tease him, but it sounded awkward coming from his mouth now, like it didn't belong there. Batman - no, no, this was Bruce now, because Batman couldn't care about the madman like this - tightened his grip on the other man's skinny arm, his eyes begging for him to be normal… well, the Joker's normal, again, but it was useless, because the Joker he knew was already gone past the point of saving.

And that was when Bruce sunk to the ground, tears pouring out of his eyes, his free hand balling into a fist and pounding on the ground. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.." He chanted softly, apologizing for everything he had ever done to the Joker. The Joker had knelt down in front of him, eyes wide, and that's when Bruce finally realized that the Joker had removed his cowl and was now staring at the pretty face of Bruce Wayne. "Uh.."

"I would've never guessed that the man behind the mask was pretty boy Bruce Wayne…" The Joker said, more to himself than to Bruce, because he didn't feel all that comfortable talking to Bruce right now. He was licking his lips in that nervous way that he had, and it made Bruce feel a little bit better. "Err, you should probably go know."

Bruce considered arguing before he heard the front door slamming. He nodded, put his cowl back on, and exited the way he came, and he ignores the screams now coming from the house he just left, because it's none of his business, and the Joker wouldn't want him to interfere.

---

Bruce is thinking hard as the Joker pushes him down onto the old bed with the torn up sheets that were white last night, but now there's red staining them, and the Joker has more cuts than before, and his eyes look a little darker than they did before, but he's trying to make Bruce happy, to make Batman happy, and it's not working very well.

But Bruce doesn't want to smile until the Joker smiles, but the Joker hasn't smiled (well, with his mouth) for a long time now, and when he does smile, it's that forced smile that doesn't reach his eyes, and it just makes Bruce sadder.

Bruce is still thinking as the Joker leans down and presses his soft lips to Bruce's, and Bruce can feel the scars, always smiling, against his cheeks, and now the Joker's tongue is at the corner of Bruce's mouth, and it's tracing a curve upwards, trying to make Bruce smile. Bruce thinks about smiling, and he wonders if it will make the Joker smile, but nothing makes the Joker smile now, not even a deck of playing cards, not even greasepaint.

Bruce runs his fingers through the Joker's messy hair, staring at it critically, because it's not green anymore, because the man from the mob doesn't like it when it's green, and it doesn't look the same to Bruce anymore, and it feels like Bruce is holding a stranger. The Joker is staring at him with sad eyes now, and Bruce swears he can see wetness in them, but he turns away and looks around the room instead, because he knows that if he looks at the Joker, his heart will hurt again, and his heart has been hurting a lot lately, and he just wants a break.

Then he feels selfish, because he knows that the Joker doesn't get a break from the beatings. "Why don't you run away? He doesn't treat you right."

The Joker looks away, muttering things like "It's not his fault" and "You wouldn't understand", and Bruce looks at the shiny piece of metal on the Joker's finger, and then back up at the man's face, and can see that he's trying so hard to force himself to love the man from the mob, but he just can't.

And then, Bruce starts crying again, like he does every single night, because he can't hold it in anymore, because it's not fair that the Joker has to go through this, because the Joker can't defend himself anymore because he's lost himself. The Joker runs his fingers through Bruce's dark hair, trying to comfort him, but it only makes things worse, because Bruce knows that the Joker he knew wouldn't try to comfort him, in fact, he'd probably try to make it worse, but the Joker Bruce knew was gone now.

Bruce hears the front door slam shut, and the Joker is following him, his hand on his bicep. "I love you," he says quickly, one time, two times, three times. Bruce looks over at him, and the tears are back, running down his cheeks. He leans closer to the Joker, kissing him for the last time, and says "I love you too" against his lips. Then he's back outside, but this time, he stares from his position through the Joker's window, and the Joker stares back, mouthing "I love you" again before closing the window and turning to face the door, moving out of Bruce's view because he knows that Bruce wants to watch.

Bruce watches, trying not to cry, as the Joker doesn't even try to defend himself like he usually does, and Bruce knows that the Joker he knew is completely gone now, and Bruce takes a few shaking breaths, and he has to turn away when the man from the mob raises his fist again.

---

Bruce is crying again, sobs ripping through his throat, and this time Bruce can't force himself to stop, and he wonders about what would happen if he pressed that blade to chest for the tenth time this week, because he doesn't want to suffer anymore, because he's alone in his king sized bed, which is meant to be shared with a lover, because his lover is gone, and Bruce feels like he's gone. But he can't ever leave, because Gotham needs Batman, even if Bruce doesn't need Gotham, and Bruce really only needs one thing, but it was taken from him.

And Bruce remembers all of his lies, all of the promises that he would save the Joker, but now it was too late, and Bruce feels so alone, so cold, and now he's holding that knife to his chest again, but he won't do it, he can't do it, because Gotham needs Batman, and if he does it, then he would lose the battle, and he knew the Joker would want him to fight, to fight for Bruce, and to fight for him.

Bruce is shaking now, the tears are pouring down his cheeks now, and he wonders how long it will be until he can't cry anymore, and he wonders how long it will be until his heart bursts, because it just hurts so very, very much, and Bruce can't stand it.

He buries his face in his hands, seeing only darkness, and that's all he wants to see, because it hurts to see anything else. There's a sharp pang in his heart again, and he clutches at his chest with his free hand, trying to rip his heart out, because he doesn't want to feel the pangs anymore. He screams at the top of his lungs, like a toddler throwing a tantrum, and that's exactly what he's doing, throwing his pillows around, knocking the lamp and alarm clock off his bedside table, yanking the drawer open, throwing his knife into it, slamming it shut, and then his hands move to his hair while he's pounding his feet onto the mattress, because he wants the pangs to go away, and he wants the tears to stop, and he wants the Joker back.

It's all his fault. His fingernails are digging into his arms now, and it's all his fault, because he waited to long to rescue the Joker, and now the Joker was gone, because Bruce had spent to long thinking, planning, because he could never just be like the Joker and act on impulse, and the tears are falling heavier now, because all Bruce wants is to be holding the Joker in his arms, because even if he wasn't the same as the madman Batman had fought, he would still love him just the same, because there was now a Joker for Batman and a Joker for Bruce.

Bruce buries his face in his hands again, tears slipping through the cracks in his fingers, and he just wants the pangs to stop, the tears to stop, and he just wants to hold the Joker in his arms, whether it be the Batman's Joker or Bruce's Joker, or a combination of both, because he just wants to be happy again, and he just wants things to be normal again, and he's pressing the knife against his chest again, but he won't do it, he can't do it, because Batman has a job to do, and Batman is always more important than Bruce, but tonight, he thinks Bruce should come first.

Tears are still falling, but Bruce doesn't try to calm himself this time, he lies back down on his king sized bed, that he should be sharing with the Joker, but the Joker's dead now, and Bruce is squeezing his eyes shut as he pushes the blade further into his chest, and now he's screaming, because it hurts, but it doesn't hurt as much as the pangs, and it doesn't hurt as much as his eyes do in the morning after all the crying. He opens his eyes, staring at all the blood, and wonders if the Joker had opened his eyes to look at all of his blood, and he hoped that the Joker had laughed in that bastard from the mob's face, like Batman's Joker would have, and then that he would have closed his eyes and chanted to himself "I love you Bruce" like Bruce's Joker would have, because that's what Bruce was doing now.

Now his eyes are closing themselves, and his grip slackens on the hilt of the knife, and all he thinks is that he gets to see the Joker again, whether it's Batman's Joker or Bruce's Joker, or a combination of both.

And now, all he can see is darkness.


End file.
